


airspace

by jinkandtherebels



Series: angel AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, angel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkandtherebels/pseuds/jinkandtherebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels do not choose to Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	airspace

.

**airspace**

.

“You know?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. They are one, his garrison. One heart and mind. One collective consciousness. It’s just one more way their Father keeps them bound to their closest brothers and sisters.

Itachi knew as soon as the decision was reached, and so did Shisui. But his friend must have had a reason for asking, so Itachi answers anyway.

“Yes.”

Shisui stares at him, a frank black gaze boring into his head. Itachi is discomforted. It feels almost as if Shisui is expecting something from him, but he has no idea what it is.

“That’s it, then?” Shisui says finally.

“What else is there to say?” Itachi replies.

He has just enough time to register the odd expression on Shisui’s face before he unfurls his wings and is gone.

.

Their superiors have reached a decision. This state of inertia has gone on long enough. Their higher brothers have done nothing to end it, and so their garrison will force a change.

They will overthrow the highest authorities of Heaven save God Himself, and return battle and glory to the Host.

Itachi understands. He is still young, not like most of his fellow foot soldiers with centuries upon centuries of experience; not like their generals who fought their Father’s battles for longer than anyone can recall.

Still, he imagines he understands their reasoning. The inertia, the simple boredom that comes with having no great purpose to fulfill, piled on over so very many years…it would be enough to drive any being mad. Never mind if it were all being done in the service of a Father some whispered had abandoned them.

The thought alone is blasphemy, but Itachi has already thought it.

In any case, he does understand.

It does not mean he agrees.

But their superiors have reached a decision, and there is nothing to be done but follow.

.

They are a small garrison, relatively speaking. Nothing like the incomprehensibly massive armies of Michael or Gabriel, for instance. What this means, among other things, is that everyone in the garrison is well acquainted with their fellows. It means that there is the opportunity for personal friends—friends held in closer confidence than their other brothers and sisters. The practice is not encouraged, but it is not explicitly forbidden, either.

Fugaku, their general, has his second-in-command Mikoto.

Inabi has his squadmate Tekka.

And Itachi has Shisui.

Many have murmured that their unknowable (but ineffable, always ineffable) Father was feeling particularly opaque when He created their bright-eyed brother. Privately Itachi is inclined to agree. Shisui is an oddity, to be sure. He is bold and thoughtful, bizarrely jovial and always, always emotional.

In some respects, he almost resembles humanity more than those of the Host.

Their brothers and sisters seem to consider this a defect. Itachi thinks it is probably the reason he loves Shisui so much. More, if he is being honest with himself, than any others of their garrison.

It is mildly rebellious thoughts like this that make Itachi believe his friend has rubbed off on him.

.

“I don’t understand how they’ve decided on _this_.”

They’re back on this subject again. Shisui’s tone is tense, his lanky body taut with anger. Itachi prods him with a gossamer wing, a silent reminder to calm down. Only when the tight muscles ease under his touch does Itachi deem it safe to continue the conversation.

“They are tired,” he reasons under his breath. “Tired of being left to gather dust while their swords dull. Tired of having no wars to win and no higher purpose to serve. Tired of hearing nothing from our Father, of being convinced that He’s-”

Itachi’s mouth closes with an audible snap (he hadn’t meant to say so much), but Shisui finishes for him.

“Gone,” he says flatly. “That He’s abandoned us all to an eternity of uncertainty. Or, apparently, left us to kill each other because He can’t bear to watch.”

“It is not a guarantee that we will fail,” Itachi says, sounding much calmer than he feels. “Our garrison has always been talented at shielding our thoughts. And there are others who might stand with us if we make the first move; you know that.”

There are indeed, and alliances like that would undoubtedly lead to a civil war.

A civil war in Heaven.

 Itachi realizes the devastating implications of his words a moment after they are said. Shisui obviously does too. He begins to pace, fingers twisting in his hair (a nervous habit and one more thing that singles him out).

“They can’t do this,” he mutters. “They can’t just decide something this huge. They _can’t_. It’s not _their_ choice to make.”

“They are our superiors,” Itachi replies dully, for what feels like the hundredth time. “We will do as we are ordered to.” _We have no choice_ goes unsaid.

“Yeah,” Shisui says with a humorless laugh. “That’s how it usually goes.”

That strange frustrated look is back in his eyes. Irritated— _what, exactly, do you want me to_ ** _do_** _?_ —Itachi says something about trainee appointments and leaves Shisui behind.

.

“You’re late,” Sasuke tells him when he arrives at the library. “You’re never late.”

Itachi sighs and takes a seat across from him. “I was…distracted, Sasuke. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t mind,” the boy says with a shrug. “It’s not like I really need you to watch me read anyway.”

“No,” Itachi replies, raising an eyebrow. “You only need me to make certain you stay on task instead of skipping to the battles every time.”

Sasuke reddens and Itachi bites back a smile.

It is tradition that newborns—trainees—be mentored by older angels. Taken under their wing, more or less. Itachi was far more pleased than he should have been when Sasuke was assigned to him. All things being equal, one trainee over another should have made no difference to him, but he couldn’t help it. Sasuke is bright, very bright, never afraid to voice his opinion, and his loyalty to Itachi and to their other brothers and sisters is unwavering. Teaching him everything from flying to weaponry to—in this case—history has never been anything but rewarding.

Sasuke is likely, Itachi knows, further proof of his tendency to get attached to individuals. It’s a habit that he should be worried by, but can never quite bring himself to be.

“Start on page four-thousand,” he instructs. Sasuke looks at him with hopeful eyes and he gives in. “We’ll be reading about Michael and the dragon.”

Sasuke grins and starts flipping pages.

.

Itachi has deemed the passing of time sufficient for Shisui to have calmed down, and seeks him out. He finds his friend on the cloud’s edge, staring down into the infinite sky. Silky blackness engulfs everything below, the skies encrusted with countless sparkling stars, and Shisui seems lost in them.

Itachi is considering leaving when his friend blinks and looks to him with a small smile.

“Hey,” he greets.

Itachi sits at his side. Together they watch a violet galaxy twist away beneath their feet.

“It’s not right,” Shisui murmurs after a few minutes, and if Itachi’s heart sinks. Shisui can never just leave things be. Even when there is nothing he can do, even when openly implying otherwise will only make things worse.

“Whether that is true or not,” Itachi says in a carefully measured tone, “it has been decided. We have our orders, and it’s our duty to follow them.”

“Even if they’re insane?” Shisui snaps, calmness evaporating instantly. “I will _not_ be another Lucifer!”

“ _Quiet_ ,” Itachi hisses. The words shake him. He wasn’t yet born when their eldest brother Fell, but even now the shockwaves still reverberate across Heaven. He shudders to imagine such a catastrophe happening all over again.

Calmly, in the stern voice he uses during the most vital of Sasuke’s lessons: “Things already been set in motion, Shisui, and they will proceed as they have been planned. Whether or not you or I agree with them.”

He can almost see Shisui’s anger draining away. The fight seems to seep out of him all at once, with brittle helplessness filling up its place.

“I wish I could say this isn’t like you,” he tells Itachi flatly, “but it is. It is _exactly_ like you, and I was an idiot to expect anything different.”

That odd look is back full force, and Itachi balks as he realizes what it is.

Disappointment.

Something in him cracks just a little bit, because Shisui is an idiot. He stands.

“Don’t you look at me like that,” he says with quiet fury. “I did not start this.”

Shisui scowls and he stands up as well. “No, but you’re sure not doing anything to end it.”

Itachi feels his hands curling into fists. “I am doing my duty,” he retorts. “I don’t know what you think _you_ are doing.”

Surprise flashes over Shisui’s face an instant before rage does.

The punch knocks Itachi sideways before he even considers that Shisui will do it. His wings unfurl, a defensive reflex that comes too late as he reels from the hit. Pain is not an entirely alien sensation, but he’s never gotten used to it.

“I’m sorry,” Shisui offers into the resulting silence. Itachi meets his gaze evenly, wiping blood from the corner of his lip.

“Are you?” he asks.

Shisui’s gaze flickers to his mouth and then away. He doesn’t answer.

.

It takes much of Itachi’s considerable concentration to block the specifics of the fight from his fellow angels. They still sense something off, aim frowns at his back when they think he won’t notice, but they’re preoccupied concealing their own treacherous plans from the rest of the Host and Itachi manages to keep those memories from leaking into their collective consciousness.

Shisui hasn’t tried to approach him again. It’s for the best. He is the unstoppable force to Itachi’s immovable object. They will never change each other’s minds. Shisui will also never stop trying; Itachi has no doubt of this. It worries him.

He will not give in. He can’t.

The plan will succeed, and Itachi will play his role in it because there is no longer any other option.

.

“I _am_ sorry for hitting you, you know.”

Itachi tears his gaze away from the movements of the constellations, wondering when Shisui got so adept at sneaking up on him.

“I know.”

“I just…” Shisui sighs, runs his fingers back through already disastrous hair. “This all feels wrong. They’re betraying Dad. I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“And you think that I do?”

“Maybe?” He winces. “Well, you didn’t do a terrific job of convincing me otherwise, but I guess you’ve always been better than me about accepting things.”

“No,” Itachi replies slowly. “No, I really haven’t.”

“What’s that mean?”

Itachi tries to swallow only to find his mouth dry as sand. _It means that I’m stubborn. I am so stubborn and I am so sorry._

The words stick in his throat. He shakes his head.

He must see something in his friend’s expression because for once, Shisui lets it go. His wing brushes Itachi’s lightly, another gesture of apology Itachi isn’t entirely sure he deserves.

“You know,” Shisui says, “when I gave you this thing I never thought you would actually wear it.”

He reaches over to fiddle with the necklace Itachi wears, silver-black ringlets connected by a chain. The chain is delicate-looking, but stronger than any other metal they know.

“Why not?” Itachi asks, gratefully embracing the subject change. “You gave it to me as a gift.”

“To commemorate your promotion,” Shisui recalls with a grin. “Yeah, I know, but it was supposed to be a joke. I asked Mikoto if she had anything she wanted me to take off her hands. Thought for sure you’d figure out it was meant for one of our _sisters_.” He considers. “I also hoped you’d see the humor and not take my head off.”

Itachi tries not to color the way Sasuke does when called out. “It’s rude not to wear a gift,” he mutters.

“Aw, don’t get embarrassed. It suits you.”

Something tells Itachi that was meant as a jab, but Shisui’s expression says otherwise. Fondness has blunted the teasing grin, softened his face into something kinder than Itachi has seen since their fates were decided for them.

Like this, open and—for the moment—untroubled, Shisui’s eyes are like that sky below, infinite and sparkling with possibilities.

It reminds Itachi that he has always wanted to see those stars a little closer.

.

He knew that the tranquil period would be brief, but it doesn’t stop him from missing it once it’s gone.

A civil war in Heaven. It’s all Itachi has thought about. He has been in terrible battles and seen terrible things. He never wants to see such things again, but this is even more than that. A full-scale war involving the entire Host…it could tear all of Creation apart.

He wonders how their brothers and sisters would react in the aftermath of one garrison taking such colossal matters into their own hands. Would there be punishment? Or veneration?

He wonders, were Sasuke privy to the machinations of their superiors, if he would stand against them or raise his flaming sword with the rest, caught up in the glory of it all

He wonders how Shisui would look at him for the rest of their unending time, regardless of the battle’s outcome—if it would be that same look of deep disappointment, if he would even look at him at all.

Itachi wonders if he would be able to face himself.

.

He waits at the cloud’s edge, watching the skies flow like a glittering river below.

His stomach churns. The enormity of what he is about to do has been pressing in on him for a very long time, it seems, and he can’t see any relief at the end of it.

This will be the ultimate betrayal.

But carrying out necessary evils has always been in their nature, hasn’t it? Their Father made sure of that. They strive to follow His great example. They always have.

Itachi doesn’t look away from the drifting stars as a venerated figure takes a seat beside him, expression unfathomable. That he is even able to set foot in Heaven without every member of the Host knowing about it is a testament to his skill, honed over millennia of practice.

That he would easily destroy any errant foot soldier who tried to stand in his way is a testament to why he was cast out to begin with. (Back when Their Father still cared enough about them to do such things. If He were still paying any sort of attention Itachi would not be in this position.)

He is a traitor of the highest order, the most powerful of them to Fall since Lucifer oh so long ago, but that power is exactly what Itachi needs. This assignment had been given to him and no other, but the elders must have known Itachi could not do it alone. (He has wondered, on occasion, what that says about their own plans, but that does not matter now.)

“Madara,” he greets.

“Itachi,” Madara acknowledges with a nod. “Are you prepared?”

Itachi keeps his mind carefully blank. “Of course.”

“I don’t believe you.” Madara’s tone is almost conversational. “You are a decent liar, child, but I learned from the master.”

A chill runs down his spine. He ignores it.

Madara continues to speak. “Whether or not you have prepared yourself makes no difference to me. I trust you are aware that if you fail, if you do not eliminate your garrison and the threat they present, all of Creation will be endangered. Countless will die, and it will be on your head.”

“I am aware,” Itachi says coldly. “I will do what is necessary.”

“Good.” Madara sounds satisfied, and when Itachi finally looks up he is gone.

It is almost time, and the knowledge is overwhelming. Itachi leans forward to hold his head in his hands.

He wonders what it would feel like to push off the clouds, cut away his wings and fall through the stars. Would he be at peace then?

He doubts it.

“Itachi.”

He stiffens.

_No._

Oh yes. He doubts there is anyplace that holds peace for him now.

 “Hello, Shisui.”

.

He turns around with an impassive face, silently cursing whatever spark of creativity had prompted their Father to make Shisui capable of moving so quietly.

“So this was what you meant when you talked about things in motion.” Shisui’s voice is devoid of emotion, and it is one of the more disturbing things Itachi has ever heard. “This was what you meant when you said you were no good at accepting things. You’ve been planning this all along.”

He can do nothing but nod.

“It makes sense, when I think about it,” Shisui continues. “You’ve always wanted to be a martyr. That’s not a big shocker. What I don’t get-” A short, bitter laugh breaks through the façade. “What I really _don’t_ get is why you felt the need to lie to me about it.”

Itachi swallows hard. “Shisui, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t _what_?” There it is—the bubbling rage, the emotional reaction that has always made Shisui who he is. “If you say you ‘merely withheld the truth’ or anything like that I swear to _our Father_ I will break your wings.”

Shisui does not make empty threats. Itachi is silent.

“Were you planning on telling me? Ever?” Shisui demands, rage starting to mix with that now-familiar disappointment. “Or would you have just murdered me with the rest of them, without me ever knowing why? I’ve been telling you the whole time that this isn’t right—why did you keep trying to convince me you were on their side?”

“I couldn’t let anyone suspect that I might have different objectives,” Itachi answers. “Even you. Secrecy was—is—paramount.”

“Just you and Madara, huh?” Shisui says, disbelieving. “Oh, and then there’s that—how did you even _find_ him?”

“He contacted me. I don’t know how-”

“So you’ll trust the man who caused the biggest scandal since Lucifer, but not me.”

“It is not a question of trust,” Itachi interrupts. “I want—I _need_ you to understand that. His power is necessary. Trust has nothing to do with it.” _I would have come to you if it did._

“Let’s try another question,” Shisui presses on without pausing. “Did you even try to work out anything else? Or was ‘kill ‘em all’ just the first option that came to mind?”

Hiding his hurt with practiced ease, Itachi replies “Of course I did. I tried to convince both sides to try for diplomacy. I tried over and over again.” He takes a breath. “But there were too many soldiers, and they had been useless for too long. I was…overruled.”

“And that was that?”

“What else would you have had me do?”

“What about Sasuke?” Shisui demands. “Is he on the hit list too? Just his bad luck?”

“I made a deal for Sasuke,” Itachi says quietly. “He is an innocent with no part in this. The elders were—merciful.”

“ _Merciful_? Are you out of your _mind_? And what about the other trainees, huh? They’re ‘innocents’ too. What’s going to happen to them, you selfish-”

“I can’t bargain with the elders anymore, and believe me I-” Itachi suddenly feels very tired. “I have done all that I can.”

There is no warning this time, no giveaway in Shisui’s expression or voice. Itachi makes the mistake of blinking and suddenly Shisui is _there_ , aiming a fist for the same spot he made bleed the other day.

Reflex takes over; Itachi ducks, sweeps his leg across Shisui’s in an attempt to throw him off balance. Shisui unfurls his wings to keep from falling sideways but Itachi jumps from below, tackles him to the ground and puts his hands around Shisui’s throat.

It all happens in seconds, not even enough time for him to wonder how they got here.

“Go…ahead,” Shisui chokes out. “You’d’ve just…killed me anyway.”

Itachi realizes with horror that Shisui is crying—tears of fury or of something else, he has no idea.

His grip goes slack and he backs away from Shisui, stands up.

“No,” he says. “I do not think I would have.”

Shisui wipes his face roughly and makes a strangled noise, frustration beyond what words can convey. “ _Then you should have told me_ , you bastard!” he says furiously, hauling himself to his feet. “I’m not your damned damsel in distress, Itachi, and I’m not completely useless either. How can you say you’ve done all you can when you didn’t even bother to ask me for help?”

“You would never have agreed to this,” Itachi responds sharply. “You would never have helped me.”

Shisui stares at him. He stares for a long time while Itachi fights not to look away.

“I wouldn’t’ve let it come to this,” he says eventually. Anger has deserted his tone, leaving it tired. “We would’ve worked something else out. You should never have had to carry all this on your own, and I would have shared it with you if you had just _come_ to me.”

He shakes his head. “But no. You chose to do everything on your own.”

Shisui runs his fingers back through perpetually unruly hair, walks to the edge of the clouds and stares out into infinity. Itachi feels a shiver of foreboding and hurries to speak again, to offer some kind of olive branch.

“It is not hopeless. I can try to explain to the elders—if they see that even one other of us is willing to negotiate, there may still be a chance for diplomacy.”

 “Too late for that,” Shisui says. “Way too late. They’re all fired up for blood now, and nothing’s going to stop them from ordering it. I don’t think they even want peace anymore.” He turns back to Itachi. “And best of all, they don’t even need to get their hands dirty. They have their assassin for that.”

Itachi flinches. Shisui’s eyes soften slightly.

“Don’t you realize what they’re going to do to you?” he asks softly. “You’re going to be tried for disturbing the harmony of the Host. They’ll know why you did it and they’ll punish you anyway. You won’t get any thanks. You won’t be anything but a convenient scapegoat.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you _care_?” Shisui pushes, almost pleading.

“No,” Itachi answers simply. “It is a worthwhile exchange.”

“Unbelievable.” Shisui laughs. It sounds choked. “Unbelievable. You really are the perfect martyr.”

Itachi has nothing to say to that.

“Just answer one more.” He looks calmer now, like some kind of weight is lifting. It worries Itachi, but he nods.

“Was there anything I could’ve said or done to change your mind?”

Itachi honestly thinks about it. Time ticks away as he considers the risks and rewards of a hundred different decisions. His friend deserves to hear the truth.

But more than anything else, Itachi decides at length, he deserves peace.

So he stares at a spot over Shisui’s head and lies: “No. Nothing.”

When in reality it would have taken horribly little for his nobler convictions to sift away like sand.

The corner of Shisui’s mouth curls up. “Don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. I’m not going to stick around to watch you do this to yourself.”

Itachi’s eyes snap back to his friend’s. “What do you-”

And then he notices just how close Shisui is standing to the edge.

“Shisui,” he says slowly, dread creeping in around the edges. “Don’t.”

“Oh, sorry, did you want an audience?” Dry as salt, but Shisui is still wearing that half-smile. “I said I would’ve helped you if you had come to me. I meant that, but you didn’t, and I’m sure as hell not going to stand around and-”

He cuts himself off. “No. I’ll take my chances down there.”

Itachi feels sick as the implications slam into him. _Down there_ —that means Earth, humanity, a loss of power and wings and hundreds of years of shared memories. That means taking his chances with rebirth in a helpless human body, forgetting everything he has ever done and leaving everything behind.

This is not supposed to happen.

Angels are not supposed to _choose_ to Fall.

“Shisui,” Itachi tries again, “ _don’t_. I’m sorry.” _Is that what you want to hear?_

“Are you?” Shisui asks, still with that maddening little grin.

“I am. I’m sorry that it’s come to this.” And he _is_ sorry that things have gotten to this point, that Shisui could never understand his willingness to do whatever it takes.

Because Shisui will always believe that there is another way, and Itachi has always known that sometimes there isn’t one.

“Yeah,” Shisui sighs. “So am I.” He shakes his head as if to clear it before looking up to meet Itachi’s eyes. The grin has faded into a wistful little smile.

“Do what you have to,” he tells Itachi. “And then get out. Just…get out of here, alright? Find someplace that won’t make you do things like this and just _live_. Do that for me, huh?”

The finality of it all gives Itachi the sensation of the ground crumbling away underneath his feet. He is frozen in place and suddenly terrified.

“Shisui-”

Shisui doesn’t let him interrupt. “Who knows? I might even end up back here someday, when we’ve all gotten our shit together.” There are tears clogging his voice, but he finally manages to give Itachi a proper smile.

“See you on the flip side, moron.”

He is falling back before Itachi can move, wings curled around his body as he plummets through the sky and vanishes into its black embrace.

It happens so fast.

The shock freezes Itachi’s scream before it can leave his body.

He sinks to his knees, as if he is a puppet and Shisui has just cut away his strings.

.

Somewhere on Earth, a wailing baby is born with tufts of black curly hair. His eyes will sparkle later, when he laughs for the first time, but for now he can only cry and cry, expressing a grief that goes far beyond what his new little body can comprehend.

The already-muddy memories will fade soon.

For now, Shisui Uchiha sobs.

.

Shisui has been gone only a few endless seconds when a piercing light appears from nowhere, slamming into Itachi’s throat and knocking him flat on his back.

If this is divine retribution, he will welcome it.

“This is not the hand of God come to punish you,” an ancient and mildly amused voice says.

Itachi drags himself back to his knees as the light dims at his collarbone.

“Madara,” he rasps, red-rimmed eyes flaming with hatred. “You knew Shisui was there. You knew this would happen.”

“Of course I did,” Madara replies, unimpressed. “I wanted to see what you would do. I also wanted to give you a gift before we begin the cleansing.”

Itachi stares dully into the Fallen angel’s eyes. His own eyes throb, but he barely feels them.

“Pull yourself together, child,” Madara snaps. “You feel a difference in yourself. Concentrate.”

Frowning, focusing, Itachi pulls himself slightly away from his corporeal form and examines it. His essence pales in realization before slamming back into its body.

 “I thought so,” Madara murmurs with satisfaction. “This new strength will give you an edge, as it did me. The loss of someone cherished gives you this in compensation; it is one reason why you have never been encouraged to make particular friends. You never know when some thirsty young genius will start killing his loved ones simply for the power it gives him.”

Itachi’s hands are quivering. “And the light?” he manages.

Madara’s mouth twists itself into a very cold smile. “Something I did not predict,” he answers. “Your friend forfeited his Grace—all of his power and memories—when he chose to Fall, but he ensured that they were sent to _you_ for safekeeping. He truly trusted you.”

The tone in which he speaks of trust betrays how little Madara thinks of it, but Itachi is no longer paying attention. His entire body has begun to shake, curling in on itself without his volition, as if to avoid taking any more pain. Madara disappears with an expression of distaste.

Itachi clutches the faintly glowing chain around his neck, the receptacle for the last he will ever have of Shisui, and allows himself to give in—however briefly—to his first crushing taste of grief.

.

When Madara returns Itachi is standing, eyes dry, face utterly impassive. Power and complete calm radiate from his body. Madara nods in approval.

“It is time,” he says.

Itachi meets his gaze with new, red-black eyes and nods.

_It is time to end this_ _._

.

Later, after his entire garrison save Sasuke has been slaughtered and Madara has vanished to do only-Father-knows-what, Itachi listens impassively to the charges against him. As expected, he is to be punished for disrupting the harmony of the Host by killing so many of their own. The elders feign shock and disgust at the horrific crime as they hand down his sentence.

It is no less than he expected. He is to be exiled, cast out and left to fly wherever he can manage before his wings burn up in the heat of the stars.

“Should you survive, your powers will be destroyed,” Daziel tells him dispassionately. “Your memories, however, will remain intact so that you may reflect for all time on what you have done.”

It is not merciful, but it is just, and Itachi accepts it.

Hiruzel looks down at him with sad eyes.

“May you find your way back to us in grace someday,” he intones gently.

They make their way to an edge of Heaven where he will be cast off. Their brothers and sisters gather to stare at him with varying levels of shock, hatred and sadness. Sasuke is not here, and Itachi cannot tell if he is glad for it.

Balanced carefully at the tips of the clouds, Itachi examines the faces of those he has destroyed himself to save. Some rebellious voice in the back of his mind (one nurtured by Shisui, no doubt) asks him if it was worth it.

He has only to think of Sasuke’s bright eyes and enthusiastic intelligence and unselfish love.

_It was worth it_ , he decides. _And now it is over._

Relief washes over him in a tidal wave, prompting a tiny smile to break out on his face. A question forms in Hiruzel’s mouth, but Itachi has already pushed off the cloud’s edge, surrendering his fate to the endless sky.

Down he Falls.

His wings begin to burn but Itachi feels nothing. His mind is far away, his eyes wide open and wondering.

He always has wanted to see the stars a little closer.

.

**end**

.


End file.
